When we were on our way to the beach earlier this month, 4 hours into a long, boring drive, Will said, “Are you in the mood for some crazy talk?”
YES. Always. (INFP.)
He went on to tell me about a farm for sale a little bit outside our town’s city limits.
What would I think–and remember, we’re talking Crazy Talk–about living there for a year? Just so we could know what it’s like, nothing permanent. We’d experience rural life, plant a big garden, satisfy our farm-obsessed daughter.
The farm–complete with quaint farmhouse–was pretty darn cheap. We could rent our house, buy the farm, move to the country. Our commutes wouldn’t even be that horrible. It could happen.
Would I be up for it?
Sure, I said. There’s not much I wouldn’t try, for just one year.
We talked about it some more, and we thought of some reasons it would be riskier than we’d like. (The big one: it’s easy enough to buy a farm, but much harder to sell one.)
But that real estate listing was a launching off point for a hundred-mile conversation about possibility: places we’d like to live, cities we’d like to experience, people we’d like to be near for a little while. For us, for our kids’ sakes.
We talked about Rachel and her family, how they quit their jobs and moved to Italy for a few months. We talked about Jessica, and her family’s plan to spend six weeks next summer in France (all six of them!). We talked about how Rachel pulled off her crazy plan, how Jessica’s planning for hers, and what our own version of a dream vacation/season/year might look like.
What did we decide on? Nothing conclusive.
But that’s okay: it wasn’t time to make the decisions or hammer out the details; it was time to talk a little crazy.
And we should do it more often.
Do you talk crazy sometimes? (Please say you do!) What do you talk about when you’re talking Crazy Talk?